jimin stumbled out of the car, his boots lazily scraping the ground as he let out a displeased grunt. the faux blonde gripped his bag, squinting in the dark night in a way to help guide himself to the dump he calls a home. the siding was dirty and peeling or missing in some places, the front yard had grass―at some point. it was all dead now. the windows were broken (most of them, anyways) and the porch was rotting, jimin fearing it'll fall through someday.
he walked into the house, the nauseating scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke filling his nose and lungs almost immediately. he dropped his bag on the floor, making sure he had the three thousand dollars in his pocket from his exhausting, erotic performances. his cheeks were still flushed and his collarbones were still lined with a thin layer of sweat.
"mom, i'm home!" jimin called out, his voice cracking mid-sentence. he heard a series of loud and sharp coughing―a smoker's cough. he let out a small puff of air past his thick lips and lazily walked into the living room, stopping a few feet away from his mom. he handed the wad of money to her, "i made three thousand tonight."
"that's my good jiminie," she slurred, taking a drag from her cigarette. "putting his body to good use."
jimin forced the corner of his lips into a bittersweet smile, wanting nothing more than to cry and yell at his mom; tell her how badly she's doing at parenting. "of course."
"go get some sleep, son. school starts in two hours." she coughed between words, blowing a large cloud of smoke directly in jimin's face. he squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, resisting the urge to cough and swear.
he nodded curtly, turning to leave the room. "of course, mom."
◄
"i'm so ugly." jimin mumbles angrily, dropping the stained, raggedy towel to the floor. he hated his appearance; he was too skinny, his skin had scars from his childhood (some more recent; this is when he figured out he isn't allowed to have even a dollar of the money he makes), and he just overall really disliked how he looked. he thought his facial features were nice; he likes his eyes, nose, lips, and even his high cheekbones. he likes his skin tone, and he likes his hair. it was his overall body he didn't like."i fucking hate my life."
jimin dropped his head low, biting his lips in an attempt to keep the tears building up against his waterline from falling. he breathed heavily, his hands beginning to shake. he began to whisper quietly, almost inaudibly, to himself. "stop it, jimin. you can do this. you're lucky you're even alive. tomorrow is another day, you'll survive it."
a loud knock sounded at the door, "jimin! i told you to sleep! go to bed!"
jimin let out a shaky breath and wiped away his tears, looking into the dirty mirror and answered his mom through the door. "i will, don't worry."
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just a sneak peak :)
